Sheogorath's games
by Royal Lunatic
Summary: Playing the game, I personally loved the Whodunnit? quest. This fic is based off that, but not strictly from the perspective of the Dark Brotherhood
1. Chapter 1

"Well, well, well. What _do _we have to do with you little one?" the voice of Sheogorath, Daedric prince of madness was high-pitched and deeply unsettling.

"Lord?"

"You have been a bad boy Keedleshippe!" the subject of the Mad God's attention winced noticeable at the mention of the name that had been so graciously bestowed upon him. Not that he appreciated it.

"Lord Sheogorath, Keedleshippe is _not _my name," the translucent image of Sheogorath waved a hand impatiently, causing a nearby tree to turn bright purple and begin belching orange bubbles out of every branch. As 'Keedleshippe' watched worriedly Sheogorath began to speak again.

"Yes, yes, Keedle, I know you prefer your other name but quite frankly that is boring and you know how I _hate _being bored," 'Keedleshippe' nodded and shuddered, he knew that fact all too well, as when the Mad God was bored he often found ways to amuse himself… the tree was still belching bubbles, pink ones now.

"Let's face it dear Keedle, your work at Border Watch was good, but not great. Your theft of that cheese was exceptionally sloppy and the way you disposed of the sheep was no fun at all!" 'Keedleshippe' nodded warily, the last time Sheogorath was displeased with him, he had ended up with an extra eyeball for almost four weeks, which hadn't been a good experience, especially when everybody he saw; whichever eye he used, declared him a mutant monstrosity. No, not fun, whereas the Mad God on the other hand was laughing so much a nearby village suffered a plague of finely woven silk jackets. Even now people were still opening closets to have their favourite coat viciously attack them…

"And while I applaud your abilities in managing to drive that self-proclaimed baron insane, I was disappointed with your attempt to turn the mice of castle Skingrad green. Sure, you managed it but I didn't like the colour! They should have been forest green not lime green you dolt!" Sheogorath made to point directly at his protégé but Keedle had wisely stepped aside, and was glad of his reactions as the avian inhabitants of the oak directly behind him began waging a minor war on each other. Keedle and Sheogorath watched interestedly for a while, as the magpies appeared to gain the upper hand, before being brutally taken down by the starling/robin alliance, until that too was smashed by the eventually victorious swallows. Wrenching his attention on the swallows, which had begun making forays into new territory, Sheogorath returned to Keedle.

"So here's the deal Keedle. A while ago I heard of a little "task" that one of the night mother's children… blah, blah, blah. There's a house in Skingrad called Summitmist manor. Twelve people are supposed to go there to find a chest of treasure! Isn't that exciting? You find it; you keep it and can get out of the house. The house key is in the chest you see. Anyway Keedle, there's once catch, and it's really quite a major one; there's no chest, but nobody else needs to know that? Here's what I want you to do; you will be the twelfth person into that house, all you need to do is kill every single one of the others… without being caught. Somebody sees you, or you don't entertain me and SHAZHAM!!" Sheogorath whipped an arm out to his side, completely destroying the species briefly known as "The multi-coloured bubble spitting tree," the Mad God stared at the smoking crater where the tree had been and sighed.

"Oh bother. I liked that tree…" As Keedle began the long ride to Skingrad, he wondered once again why he actually served a god who was so obviously a complete lunatic…


	2. Meeting the people

Note that the general premise of this story is to try and work out which house guest 'Keedleshippe' so he (yes, it is a "he", unfortunately for any would be detectives, there are only two female house guests so you won't be making huge breakthroughs anytime soon) isn't necessarily the last person into the house. In fact, he isn't, cuz it's one of the girls…

As soon as Arvena Adas stepped through the doors of Summitmist manor she felt the scrutiny of several sets of eyes upon her. Shutting them with trepidation, Arvena offered a weak smile to the occupants of the room. Then she jumped as there was the sound of a key turning in a lock, the heavy doors confining them inside until somebody found the chest of treasure. As the doors were locked the tension inside the room lowered noticeably; this was it, the twelve could now begin their search, nobody else would be granted entry. The search wouldn't be easy, but it promised to be a fun and exciting evening.

Arvena was an apothecary and a healer of sorts, dabbling in both alchemy and magic. Though her abilities lay primarily with the former, she was no mean practitioner of the latter. Summitmist manor was a big place, Arvena wondered if either of her specialist skills would prove to be especially useful here. Arvena was slightly startled when a large man appeared smiling in front of her. The apothecary looked up; it was a Nord, and he appeared to be roaring drunk.

"Well aren't you a pretty young thing?" The Nord said with a broad grin. "I'm Boris, and is your name as pretty as you are?" Arvena laughed and blushed, prompting a roar of laughter from Boris. "You're all right young lady, I hope this sees you through well and you have some good fun!" with that Boris walked away, loudly demanding somebody showed him where the ale was.

_What a strange man. _Arvena mused. _I don't think I'd need three guesses to figure out what he'll spend that gold on if he gets his hands on it._

Looking around Arvena saw no fewer than six people downstairs; some of them searching, some of them just holding conversations with each other, obviously believing there was no hurry. Arvena wondered if they'd be so nonchalant if somebody found the chest right away. Aside from Boris, that left another four that Arvena hadn't seen yet. One man was tough looking and appeared to be a soldier; Redguard too at that, they made some of the best soldiers in Tamriel. A second was a slender bookish sort, an Imperial by the look of him. Clenched to his chest with both hands was a massive tome, which the man seemed barely able to lift. He kept glancing around furtively, as if afraid the book would be taken. He and the warrior seemed deep in conversation, the Redguard smiling at some joke from the other.

Arvena moved across to them and sat at their table, in a corner of the room that looked like it was some sort of library. The Redguard glanced at her, but no more than that, whilst the pale Imperial gave her a small smile and offered a hand to her.

"C-Claudius M-M-Montoni, Scholar," he stammered as Arvena took his hand and shook it. Claudius was trembling all over, a willow of a man. He laid his book on the table but kept a hand on it, still suspecting somebody might take it. The Redguard rolled his eyes, didn't offer his hand then spoke to Arvena.

"I'm Kerl. I'm a soldier, plain and simple, nice to meet you…?"

"Arvena, Arvena Adas," Kerl raised an eyebrow.

"The apothecary? I've heard of you. Some of your work is quite impressive, although not really of much use in my profession," he barked a laugh, rubbing his unshaven chin then running a hand through his short, military style hair. He warily glanced over his shoulder; two of the others had moved to the opposite side of the room whilst another had disappeared somewhere, presumably upstairs too.

"Just between us, I think you should know that one of the… 'House guests' is a vampire. I saw him head for the cellar a little while back, with a bottle of something I have a horrible suspicion was blood. Watch your neck Arvena," the apothecary nodded and rubbed her throat, that was one fate she'd hate to have.

"FOR THE LAST TIME YOU ACCURSED CAT, I DON'T WANT TO BUY ANYTHING!!!" the scream was directed from the two talking at the other side of the room. An aging man was yelling at a young-looking Khajiit, who simply grinned at him, displaying his sharp teeth. "Look mangy cur, I don't _need _yarn, or callipers! OR A PAIR OF NEW SOCKS!!" The man, rather rotund, stormed away as the Khajiit begun to laugh. He was wearing a large coat that seemed heavy with various items, such as the callipers he was holding in one hand. Still grinning noticeably, the Khajiit came over to Arvena's table.

"M'Kasha believes fat man did not like his offer. Shame, callipers are useful tools," sprawling into an armchair like… well a cat. He was twirling a small dagger around in his hands. "M'Kasha also thinks that Kerl-human should keep a better eye on his weapons," Kerl started as his hand automatically went to his hip for a weapon; which of course was not there. M'Kasha grinned in a cheeky fashion and returned the knife to the red-faced Kerl.

"Don't do that again!" Kerl growled, as Claudius and Arvena began laughing at the sheer audacity of the Khajiit.

"M'Kasha is sorry, but he could not resist, he is a showman." The Khajiit's face seemed to grow a little more serious; although it was difficult for the humans to tell. "M'Kasha is worried that Tarli-human will cause himself illness by shouting so much, he is not healthy man," Arvena was surprised by the sensitivity shown by the Khajiit and guessed that he was not quite as uncaring as he made himself out to be.

"I'm going to see who else I'm sharing this house with, so I'll see all of you later," Arvena said, rising, receiving a nod from Kerl, a "G-g-goodbye" from Claudius and an indifferent shrug from M'Kasha. It was time to learn a little about her housemates.


	3. Bored

Sheogorath; approximately two days after the departure of Keedleshippe, found himself wondering whether his follower had arrived at Summitmist manor yet. Panic gripped him when he realised he might be missing some of the fun! Hurling himself bodily onto his rather comfortable couch, Sheogorath conjured a large panel of glass, upon which he projected several images of the current events in Summitmist manor. He was both pleased and a little disappointed when he discovered that the killing hadn't started yet, Sheogorath hoped that this wouldn't get boring, after all, he had plenty of better things to do than to sit around watching a screen which had nothing interesting on it!

As nothing of great note was happening right now; just paltry introductions and a bit of shouting, Sheogorath sighed exasperatedly and began searching his luxurious room for something to do. The Mad God was amusing himself by causing a nearby mountain lion to think that he was a zebra when he happened to glance back across at the flat screen. Something interesting appeared to be going on; a young Khajiit was harassing a fat man. A few minutes later Sheogorath stood with a giggle; what a great conversation! The fat man had been completely confounded by the Khajiit and the Mad God could tell that he had enjoyed doing so. That was the kind of thing that Sheogorath liked to see, along with upside down ships, bats that could see and trees that spat bubbles. Sheogorath sighed at the fact that he hadn't been able to look after the bubble tree but brightened as he thought of all the fun that he could have trying to replicate the effect!

"Chow! Get me some saplings! I've got a wonderful idea to try out!" Chow; Sheogorath's long-suffering wood elf head servant rolled his eyes and departed the Mad God's tower in order to cater to his whims. He knew full well that by the time he got back Sheogorath would most likely have completely forgotten about the order and instead chastise him for wasting time… such was life at the whim of an insane man. The fact that Sheogorath was a god just made everything worse…


	4. Sinister

Arvena made her way upstairs speedily. for some reason, it made her feel incredibly insecure to be alone. Perhaps it was the sheer size of the manor: when you were too far away from others it went eerily quiet, making you want to fill it up. Any break in conversation, too, made all those concerned distinctly uncomfortable. Of course, that could just be the underlying element of competition, could you trust these people? After all, they were looking for the chest of gold too. Whilst with some there was a friendly feeling (Boris for example) who would probably just wish you well if he discovered you had found the chest, others didn't have quite that same vibe. Kerl for example, had an air of barely concealed hostility, very likely agression carried over from his military days.

The second floor, Arvena considered, was just as pleasant as the first, and there were no lack of people to see either. Seated around a table were no fewer than three further house guests, a fourth standing nearby - that left only two of her fellows that Arvena had not yet met, or at least encountered. All four of them looked over at Arvena as they heard her approaching, but only one actually extended a greeting - a well-dressed orc. However, Arvena noticed that, for some reason or another, his clothes were ever so slighty shabby, despite being fine in quality. Arvena presumed that he was down on his luck, and was after the chest to restore his fortunes.

"Hello there!" the orc said, in a rather jolly tone. "It's good to see the last guest has arrived. My name is Ulgrik gro-Galog, merchant. Who might you be young lady?" Arvena noted that Ulrgrik was fairly well spoken for one of his race, it must have been due to his area of work.

"I'm Arvena," she told him, smiling with a small amount of pride when a look of recognition passed over Ulgrik's face. Recently, Arvena had started to become quite well known locally: she was the toast of Anvil, her hometown. It seemed, judging by the reactions of Ulgrik, and earlier, Kerl, that her reputation had even begun to reach other parts of Cyrodill.

One of those at the table looked up sharply upon hearing Arvena's name, a wire-thin Imperial wearing oval spectacles and a long white coat. His face was lean and angular, and he had an altogether too intense look in his eyes. Arvena couldn't quite place him, but she could have sworn that she had seen that man somewhere before.

"Your reputation preceeds you Miss Adas," someone else, Arvena tore her eyes from the strangely familiar man to focuse on the speaker. It was a Dunmer, and his feet were on the table, an apple held in one hand. From what she could tell, he was fairly young, his red hair wild and unkempt, his beard a similar shade and grown in a careful goatee. When he spoke, it was with a drawl. "Call me... Sayid," the Dunmer gestured lazily to the final occupant of the table, a rough looking Argonian. "The lizard goes by the name Runs-Through-Woods, he's a hunter, and he doesn't appear to speak much. At least in your language," The hunter turned his gaze on Arvena, and she had to force herself not to shrink back from the penetrating look in his huge scarlet eyes. They had a most predatory gleam, and it was exceptionally disturbing. The Alchemist glanced away again, and found herself looking back at the Imperial, who was now regarding her over his steepled fingers. There was an awkward pause, then he broke the silence emphatically.

"Well," he said, looking at each of them craftily. "I don't know about all of you, but I somehow doubt that chest will find itself. Let the hunt begin!" something in the way the Immperial proclaimed that last made Arvena feel as if he wasn't entirely refering to the search itself...


End file.
